


Petunia Evans and the Unwelcome Visitor

by ellalightwood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 04:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20594372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellalightwood/pseuds/ellalightwood
Summary: James visits the Evans family over the summer holidays. Petunia is not at all happy about this.





	Petunia Evans and the Unwelcome Visitor

Lily had been on the phone for almost half an hour. Petunia leaned over the bannister, her mouth twisted into a disapproving scowl as she watched her sister laughing in the hallway, idly twisting the phone cord between her fingers.

It was that _Potter _boy, of course. Ever since Lily had come home for the summer it had been _James _this and _James _that. Lily would spend hours in her room, writing _letters, _on _parchment _(of _course _those nasty wizards used _parchment _and _quills _as though they lived in the fourteenth century – utterly _ridiculous)_. Petunia would catch her gazing dreamily out of the window, thinking about her stupid wizard boyfriend no doubt, or perhaps scanning the skies for owls. _Owls! _It truly beggared belief, Petunia thought. Who in their right mind would want a filthy great _bird _flapping around their house, getting feathers and droppings everywhere?

Petunia hadn’t met this Potter boy (nor did she ever want to), but she was quite certain he was every bit as awful as that Snape boy who used to hang around Lily. All the wizards and witches Petunia had ever had the misfortune to meet were incredibly backwards in their ways of living. She was surprised Potter even knew how to operate a telephone; she imagined most wizards lived in caves or mud huts, using candles instead of electricity and cooking over open fires instead of using ovens and microwaves. They were primitive, uncivilised, uneducated – on the one occasion Petunia had asked what sort of nonsense Lily learned up at _that school, _Lily had replied that they learned different sorts of _spells_, how to brew _potions, _how to _fly, _how to grow magical _plants_ – no Maths, no Science, no Geography, nothing _sensible. _That Potter boy probably couldn’t even do basic multiplication. Petunia had enquired, scathingly, what sort of _job _Lily imagined she would get with a qualification in turning teapots into toads, to which Lily had smiled in amusement and told her that she intended to get a job in the _magical world. _

She was still talking, naturally. What could _Potter _possibly be saying that was so interesting? Petunia had seen a photograph of him – Lily had shown it to her and their parents. She’d thought he looked like an arrogant, self-absorbed dunce, and had said as much; Lily had laughed and said that she herself had thought the same at first, _“but wait ‘till you meet him, Petunia, he’s brilliant, I used to think he was a complete idiot but he’s actually incredibly kind, funny, sweet, charming and clever and__—”_

And it was very apparent that Lily was _in love _with him. _Ugh. _Petunia couldn’t imagine falling for someone who wouldn’t know what a car _looked _like_, _let alone be able to _drive _one. What on earth did Lily see in this boy? He wasn’t particularly handsome, and he couldn’t be all that clever if he didn’t even know what _football _was, and he surely wasn’t very _interesting _if he didn’t know a thing about Muggle politics or technology or history or any _non-magical _subject.

When Petunia got married, it would be to a nice, normal boy who came from a nice, normal family. He would own a car, he would dress in modern attire, he would have an ordinary job like a lawyer, a teacher, a banker, an office worker. He wouldn’t believe in or approve of all this _magic _nonsense. He would do normal things – read a newspaper that didn’t have moving photographs, watch TV, talk to people on the phone or using a normal postal service. She smiled, imagining herself in a lovely, normal house in a normal suburb far away from _freaks _like Lily and Potter and Snape, raising lovely, normal children with not an ounce of magic in them.

Noticing that Lily had at last hung up and was turning in the direction of the stairs, Petunia’s smile dropped off her face and was replaced by a disdainful sneer.

“Didn’t think _your lot _knew how to use phones,” she said contemptuously, injecting as much venom into the words _your lot _as possible.

Lily glanced up at her, evidently surprised that Petunia was a) standing on the stairs and b) speaking directly to her. “Oh – he asked our friend Remus to show him how. Said he wanted to surprise me,” she said, and then smiled that irritatingly dreamy thinking-about-James-Potter smile. “He said he missed hearing my voice.”

“How _romantic_.” Petunia’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Lily either didn’t catch her tone or chose to ignore it.

“Was that your James, dear?” The voice of Mrs Evans came from above, and the two sisters turned to watch their mother coming down the stairs.

“Yeah – can James come for dinner on Saturday? His parents said yes,” Lily said, diverting her attention from Petunia.

_“What.” _Petunia watched in horror as Mrs Evans agreed immediately and declared that she couldn’t wait to meet Lily’s boyfriend. The thought of _that boy _on their doorstep – what would the n_eighbours _think? They’d be the laughingstock of all of Cokeworth if people knew the Evanses were friends with weirdos who wore robes and pointy hats and carried things like wands and brooms and cauldrons. She scrambled downstairs after her mother, protesting loudly even as Mrs Evans waved away her complaints.

It wasn’t _fair. _Nobody in this stupid house ever seemed to care what Petunia thought. It was always Lily, Lily, Lily. What Lily wanted, she got. She was the golden child, their precious little girl, their special wonderful magical daughter. They thought wizards were fascinating people, rather than abnormal nutcases who should be avoided at all costs – because, after all, if _perfect Lily_ was magical, then other witches and wizards couldn’t be all that bad, could they?

_Ugh. _This holiday was shaping up to be the worst one Petunia had ever had.

***

“Petunia! Come downstairs!”

Potter was here. She’d seen him coming up to their front door from her bedroom window. He had, at least, made some effort to appear vaguely normal; he was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, as opposed to the usual flowing floor-length garments donned by wizards. Lily greeted him – Petunia heard her greet him enthusiastically, heard him laugh and call her “Evans,” and then the sounds of Petunia and Lily’s parents coming into the hallway to shake his hand and exchange the usual greetings of _hello, how do you do, lovely to meet you. _At the sound of her name being called, Petunia reluctantly made her way downstairs.

James Potter was as unimpressive in real life as he was in the photograph. Tall, skinny, messy black hair and hazel eyes. He smiled politely at her; his smile did not falter at the scowl she gave him in return.

“This is my sister, Petunia,” Lily said. Her arm was already linked with James’s, and she stood close to him. The mushy look she gave him made Petunia want to throw up, hurl something at her, or possibly both. “Petunia, this is James.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Petunia said icily, thinking of several things she would rather be doing.

“Same to you,” James replied, still smiling.

Petunia glared at his back as they went into the kitchen. He was every bit as annoying as she’d feared he’d be. God, just _looking _at him was nauseating. The way he seemed so comfortable and confident, one arm slung around Lily’s shoulders, chatting animatedly with their parents, smiling with effortless charm. She could just _tell _her parents would be gushing about how _sweet _and _polite _and _gentlemanly _he was the minute he left their house. She would have to put up with not only Lily going starry-eyed over him, but her parents too. _Great. _

They’d barely sat down at the table before both Mr and Mrs Evans were insisting that James could call them by their first names. Petunia fought the urge to roll her eyes. Was she the only person in this house who could see past Potter’s stupid grin and his stupid laugh and his stupid compliments and the way he was so stupidly fascinated by every non-magical thing in the room? She alone knew what wizards were really like; she thought of that horrid Snape boy, how he’d spied on her and Lily that year before the _letter _from _that school _came, how he’d gone sneaking around reading her letters when she’d written to the headmaster of _that school_, how he’d sneered at her as though she was _filth _compared to him. Wizards weren’t to be trusted, that much was clear.

“Obviously,” James was saying, “Lily here was obsessed with me from day one—”

Lily cut him off, elbowing him in mock annoyance. “I was _not. _I thought you were a total nuisance.”

“A _handsome _total nuisance – ooh, this looks delicious,” James said as the chicken dinner descended upon the table, earning him a fond smile from Mrs Evans. Petunia didn’t think she could put up with three people worshipping James Potter in the same room for much longer.

“Lily tells me you’re a sportsman,” Mr Evans said, glancing appraisingly at James’s athletic build.

_“Dad,” _Lily groaned, “don’t get him started, he’ll never shut up.”

“Your lot don’t play _normal_ sports, though, do you?” Petunia spoke up, noting how James turned towards her in surprise as if he’d forgotten she was there. “You play – what was it – _Quidditch?” _She hoped James could hear the derision in her tone.

“Yeah,” James answered, apparently as deaf to sarcasm and taunts as Lily was. “Yeah, I’m a Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I – er – I don’t know if you know how it’s played? It’s on brooms, and there’s seven players on a team…”

Petunia ignored him as he rambled on, turning her attention to the food in front of her, which was far more interesting. Digging in, she silently prayed for this evening to be over as quickly as possible. Maybe she could pretend to be sick after dinner and go upstairs to her room so she wouldn’t have to suffer Potter’s smug face and his insufferable voice and the ludicrously sappy looks he kept giving Lily whenever she spoke. It made her want to stand up on the table and scream at the two of them to get a bloody room.

The phone rang at that moment. Seizing the chance to escape, Petunia jumped up from her chair. “I’ll get it,” she said, dashing into the hallway before anybody could object. Behind her, the conversation continued as if she hadn’t moved or spoken at all.


End file.
